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shall do any man's heart good to hear him;" and this being objected to as improper, he still has a resource in his good opinion of himself, and “will roar you an 'twere any nightingale." Snug the Joiner is the moral man of the piece, who proceeds by measurement and discretion in all things. You see him with his rule and compasses in his band. 6. Have you

the lion's part written ? Pray you, if it be, give it me, for I am slow of study."--"You may do it extempore,” says Quince, “for it is nothing but roaring." Starveling the Tailor keeps the peace, and objects to the lion and the drawn sword. “I believe we must leave the killing out when all's done." Starveling, however, does not start the objections himself, but seconds them when made by others, as if he had not spirit to express his fears without encouragement. It is too much to suppose all this intentional : but it very luckily falls out so. Nature includes all that is implied in the most subtle analytical distinctions ; and the same distinctions will be found in Shakspeare. Bottom, who is not only chief actor, but stage-mapager for the occasion, has a device to obviate the danger of frightening the ladies : “ Write me a prologue, and let the prologue seem to say, we will do no harm with our swords, and that Pyramus is not killed indeed ; and for better assurance, tell them that I, Pyramus, am not Pyramus, but Bottom the Weaver: this will put them out of fear.” Bottom seems to have understood the subject of dramatick illusion at least as well as any modern essayist. If our holiday mechanick rules the roast among his fellows, he is no less at home in his new character of an ass, amiable cheeks and fair large ears." He instinctive

66 with

ly acquires a most learned taste, and grows

fastidious in the choice of dried peas and bottled hay. He is quite familiar with his new attendants, and assigns them their parts with all due gravity. " Monsieur Cobweb, good Monsieur, get your weapon in your hand, and kill me a red-hipt humblebee on the top of a thistle, and, good Monsieur, bring me the honey-bag." What an exact knowledge is here shewn of natural history !

Puck, or Robin Goodfellow, is the leader of the fairy band. He is the Ariel of the MIDSUMMER Night's DREAM; and yet as unlike as can be to the Ariel in T'he Tempest. No other poet could have made two such different characters out of the same fanciful materials and situations. Ariel is a minister of retribution, who is touched with a sense of pity at the woes he inflicts. Puck is mad-cap sprite, full of wantonness and mischief, who laughs at those whom he misleads-“ Lord, what fools these mortals be !" Ariel cleaves the air, and executes his mission with the zeal of a winged messenger ; Puck is borne along on his fairy errand like the light and glittering gossamer before the breeze. He is, indeed, a most Epicurean little gentleman, dealing in quaint devices, and faring in dainty delights. Prospero and his world of spirits are a set of moralists : but with Oberon and his fairies we are launched at once into the empire of the butterflies. How beautifully is this race of beings contrasted with the men and women actors in the scene, by a single epithet which Titania gives to the latter, “the human mortals !" It is astonishing that Shakspeare should be considered, not only by foreigners, but

by many of our own criticks, as a gloomy and heavy writer, who painted nothing but “gorgons and hydras, and chimeras dire.” His subtlety exceeds that of all other dramatick writers, insomuch that a celebrated person of the present day said, that he regarded him rather as a metaphysician than a poet. His delicacy and sportive gayety are infinite. In the MIDSUMMER Night's DREAM alone, we should imagine, there is more sweetness and beauty of description than in the whole range of French poetry put together. What we mean is this, that we will produce out of that single play ten passages, to which we do not think any ten passages in the works of the French poets can be opposed, displaying equal fancy and imagery. Shall we mention the remonstrance of Helena to Hermia, or Titania's description of her fairy train, or her disputes with Oberon about the Indian boy, or Puck's account of himself and his employments, or the Fairy Queen's exhortation to the elves to pay due attendance upon her favourite, Bottom; or Hippolita's description of a chase, or Theseus's answer ? The two last are as heroical and spirited as the others are full of luscious tenderness. The reading of this play is like wandering in a grove by moonlight : the descriptions breathe a sweetness like odours thrown from beds of fowers.

Titania's exhortation to the fairies to wait upon Bottom, which is remarkable for a certain cloying sweetness in the repetition of the rhymes, is as follows:

“ Be kind and courteous to this gentleman. Hop in his walks, and gambol in his eyes,

Feed him with apricocks and dewberries,
With purple grapes, green figs and mulberries ;
The honey-bags steel from the humble bees,
And for night tapers crop their waxen thighs,
And light them at the fiery glow-worin's eyes,
To have my love to bed, and to arise :
And pluck the wings from painted butterflies,
To fan the moonbeams from his sleeping eyes ;
Nod to him, elves, and do him courtesies."

The sounds of the lute and of the trumpet are not more distinct than the poetry of the foregoing passage, and of the conversation between Theseus and Hippolita.

Theseus. Go, one of you, find out the forester,
For now our observation is performid;
And since we have the vaward of the day,
My love shall hear the musick of my hounds.
Uncouple in the western valley, go,
Despatch, 1 say, and find the forester.
We will, fair Queen, up to the mountain's top,
And mark the musical confusion
of bounds and echo in conjunction.

Hippolita. I was with Hercules and Cadmus once,
When in a wood of Crete they bay'd the boar
| Witla hounds of Sparta ; never did I hear

Such gallant chiding. For besides the groves,
The skies, the fountains, every region near
Seem'd all one mutual cry. I never heard
So musical a discord, such sweet thunder.

Theseus. My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind,
So few'd, so sanded, and their heads are hung
With ears that sweep away the morning dew ;
Crook-knee'd and dew.lap'd, like Thessalian bulls,
Slow in pursuit, but matched in mouth like bells,
Each under each. A cry more tuneable
Was never halloo'd to, nor cheer'd with horn,
lo Crete, in Sparta, nor in Thessaly :
Judge when you hear,?!

Even Titian never made a hunting piece of a gusto so fresh and lusty, and so near the first ages of the world as this.

It has been suggested to us, that the MIDSUMMER Night's DREAM would do admirably to get up as a Christmas afterpiece ; and our prompter proposed that Mr. Kean should play the part of Bottom, as worthy of his great talents. He might, in the discharge of his duty, offer to play the lady like any of our actresses that he pleased, the lover or the tyrant like any of our actors that he pleased, and the lion like “the most fearful wild-fowl living." The carpenter, the tailor, and joiner, it was thought, would hit the galleries. The young ladies in love would interest the side boxes; and Robin Goodfellow and his companions excite a lively fellow-feeling in the children from school. There would be two courts, an empire within an empire, the Athenian and the Fairy King and Queen, with their attendants, and with all their finery. What an opportunity for processions, for the sound of trumpets and glittering of spears! What a fluttering of urchins' painted wings; what a delightful profusion of gauze clouds and airy spirits floating on them!

Alas, the experiment has been tried, and has failed; not through the fault of Mr. Kean, who did not play the part of Bottom, nor of Mr. Liston, who did, and who played it well, but from the nature of things. The MIDSUMMER Nrght's Dream, when acted, is converted from a delightful fiction into a dull pantomime. All that is finest in the play is lost in the representation. The spectacle was grand; but the spirit was evaporated, the genius was fled.-Poetry

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